


Close Call

by sailingonstardust



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Comforting Minho, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attack, Worried Newt, bookverse, but not in that order, i am the worst with tags on this site, minewt, movieverse, uhhhhh, works for either one though the slang is definitely more similar to the books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:35:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingonstardust/pseuds/sailingonstardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho always returns to the Glade on time - after all he is the Keeper of the runners. But when the walls begin to close and the boy hasn't returned, Newt begins to panic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Call

The map room was dingy, of that there was no doubt. Yet that was not what was on Newt’s mind as he paced back and forth relentlessly through the structure, shifting dirt around the ground with each turn on his heel.

Six minutes. That was how late Minho was in returning to the Glade with the other runners. While it didn’t seem like all that significant a number, Newt knew as well as any Glader the implications six minutes indicated, especially when it was Minho that was late. Never had the boy lagged behind more than a couple of minutes. He was, after all, the fastest of the runners, and he knew that being Keeper meant he had to set a good example to the others and always be on time.

Newt knew how seriously his friend took his job, and that was a large part of why his breathing became steadily heavier as he completed another turn at one end of the map room. A glance at the clock on the wall told the blond that seven minutes had passed since the others returned without Minho, which meant only three until the walls closed for the night and the Asian was a goner.

Nausea slowly began to send an uncomfortable chill up Newt’s spine and he took to gasping in deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. He was no use to anyone in a panicked state. The entire reason he was in the map room alone while the rest of the Gladers stood raptly by the maze walls was because he wasn’t able to keep his body in check as he watched the time sail by entirely too quickly. Alby had sent him in here without room for argument, not that Newt minded. In fact he was grateful to be alone. If he was going to have a panic attack it was better to have it in private than in front of the boys he played a role in leading.

One minute left, according to the clock, and Newt thought he might pass out. Bright colors splotched along the walls of the darkened room that the boy paced in and he elected to sit down and put his head between his knees lest he do just that.

No sound could be heard through the map room, but that did not stop the vibrations of the maze walls from shaking the structure. Newt heard a sob rip through the air and belatedly realized it came from him. Another curious thing was that even after the ground stopped shaking, the boy’s body did not.

Newt thought he should feel something, yet it was as if he were enclosed in a glass tank which nothing could penetrate. He tried to form the words which he knew deep inside to be true, that his best friend – maybe even more than that to him – was dead, yet his mind refused to form the sentence. Instead he sat in the dark of the room and curled tighter in on himself.

He did not hear the opening of the map room door over the blood rushing through his ears. No, what brought him out of his torturous nightmare was a familiar phrase breathed by a familiar voice.

“Shuck it.” Someone breathed, and Newt did not need to look up to know the voice belonged to Minho. The blond’s neck shot up and he saw a flash of colors before his eyes, making him dizzy and unable to focus on the one person he wanted to see more than anything in that moment.

“Shuck it.” Minho repeated, louder this time, and in three strides met Newt’s crumpled form on the opposite wall. “Newt, hey, I’m fine. I’m back, it’s okay.”

Newt heard the reassurances, felt Minho’s presence kneeling in front of him on the dirt, yet what he felt rising in him was not relief – at least, not entirely. Instead he felt anger clawing its way up his ribcage and bubbling out his mouth.

“You buggin’ slinthead!” The boy shouted, startling the runner in front him so much that he landed on his back. “What were you bloody thinking? You know the buggin’ maze closes at the same time every shuckin’ night! You were this closed to being killed, Minho, _this bloody close_! And then what would the other runners have done, huh? What would _I_ have done?”

By the time he finished his outburst, both boys were standing. Their chests heaved up and down, Minho’s from overexertion, no doubt, and Newt’s from the rollercoaster of emotions he was just put through. The blond stared at his friend and hastily scrubbed the tears from his face with the back of his palm as he tried to calm down, an uncomfortable numbness slowly replacing the hot anger in his veins.

Of all of the responses Newt expected to his outburst, a quiet “I know, I’m sorry.” was not one of them. His silence must have encouraged the runner to continue after a moment because it was not like Minho utter an apology, let alone dwell on one. “I got distracted and I didn’t pay attention to the time and I just… I’m so sorry, Newt.”

The sincerity in the boy’s gaze floored Newt. He had never known his friend to be sincere about much, especially not an apology. Yet here he stood in his exhausted state, looking desperately at Newt in a look filled with guilt and worry. All the blond could manage was a broken “You bloody shank.” before closing the space between them with a tight embrace. 

Newt’s arms wrapped around Minho’s back and clawed at his sweat soaked shirt for purchase. The runner smelled of earth and sweat and honestly it was more than a bit gross, but in that moment Newt couldn’t have cared less. All that mattered was that Minho was here, alive, and squeezing him back just as tightly.

Eventually they pulled apart, though not much before Minho’s hand reached up to rest on the side of Newt’s neck. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.” The Asian admitted quietly. “If I could make sure you never felt anything but happiness ever again I sure as shuck would.”

Newt recognized the statement for what it was and mustered up the best smile he could manage (which was pretty sad) and said “I forgive you, you shank. Just don’t bloody well do it again, you get me?”

“I get you.” Minho nodded, his hair brushing against Newt’s forehead. Suddenly Newt truly noticed their proximity to each other. He noticed how gentle the hand on his neck was, how warm Minho’s breath felt on his cheek. He noticed the way his hands clung tightly to the front of his friend’s sweaty shirt and how Minho bent his head perfectly to create a sense of safety and solitude between them.

Minho seemed to notice it at the same time, his cheeks blushing a brighter red than they already were from all of the running he just did. Just when Newt thought the boy would pull away, the runner leaned in hesitantly, as if giving the blond time to push him aside if he so chose. Newt knew what he wanted, though, and it was not to push away the boy he had been crushing on since they first met. 

As the air between them closed even tighter, Newt found himself growing impatient. Too long he had waited for this moment, and without a second thought he surged forward and elicited a surprised gasp from Minho. The blond smiled, then – a true smile – an act not made easy by the warm lips pressed against his.

It was not a particularly great kiss by typical standards, not that Newt had any past memories to compare it to. It was awkward and rushed and sloppy, but it was with Minho. And in Newt’s mind, that was truly all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever contribution to the Maze Runner/Minewt fandom! All of you seem so nice on Tumblr and I couldn't resist the urge to contribute something. I hope they aren't too ooc.. (and by they I mean Minho haha) Our sarcastic son is surprisingly difficult to write!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think; comments always make my day♥
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful day/night/whatever! (❁´‿`❁)


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